Scientia Est
by Edgar Night
Summary: Shad is discovered sneaking into the royal library. R&R, bitte! WARNING: May cause you to crave tea. Oneshot.


Scientia Est

Shad wiped his spectacles on his trouser leg, mouth wide in a yawn. Clear, pale moonlight illuminated the table on which he had spread a vast number of thick, welcoming books. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger before returning the faithful aides of his vision to their perch on the bridge of his nose. Another yawn escaped his lips—by the goddesses, how late in the night had he stayed this time? The stubborn drooping of his usually wide, alert eyes declared it was far, far too late for any sane man to remain awake and reading.

"Then I am a madman, and that is that," Shad mumbled blearily, and yawned again.

He leaned across the table to grab a quill, having spotted a passage in one of the five books directly in front of him that he wanted to jot down for future reference. He wanted to copy the passage into his own study-book, and oh, drat, where had the inkwell run off to?

He sighed. "Buried it again, have I? Blast, blast, blast—aha!"

After a moment of digging underneath all the books he had pulled from their shelves, Shad unearthed the devious inkwell. He dipped his quill into it and began to scribble. Once he had finished his scrawling, Shad's eyes scanned the fresh words. He sighed. Even Shad had to admit that his penmanship was terrible, and doubly so when he needed sleep. _He_ could read it, and that was what mattered, yes? Er, wait, that one paragraph he had jotted down last night, he couldn't make head or tail of it. Oops. Shad shook his head at himself and rubbed his temple….

…and got a liberal splattering of ink on his face in the process. Ah, well, he'd always wondered what it would be like to have darker eyebrows. Now he could inform the world of all the sensations of having one eyebrow suddenly change colour, if he so desired. Shad did wish, though, that the sudden alteration in his right eyebrow had not involved said section of his face turning a shade of bruised blue-black. He hoped it would eventually wash out. In the meantime, he submersed the end of his quill in the ink again and leaned back in his seat, noting with a small measure of vexation that his ankle itched just below the rim of his shoe.

Shad folded his arms and rested them on the table, eyes scanning the pages before him while his brain rebelled by refusing to absorb a single word. As the time ticked by, his back bent further and further forward, his eyelids dipped deeper and deeper, and his yawns came ever more frequently. Soon, unable to prolong the inevitable for a second longer, Shad drifted to sleep, spectacles tilted at an angle parallel to his nose, cheek pressed warmly against the pages of his book.

~—~

A cuccoo heralded the arrival of morning with an indignant squawk that informed everyone who heard it that the bird did not enjoy waking early to tell the non-feathered creatures they had to get up and start the day. If he had to start his day horribly, so did they. Zelda rolled over in her bed, reluctant to leave the soft, warm comfort of her thick blankets. She had curled into a ball in the night, and her left leg was completely asleep. She smiled to herself; being unable to walk was a perfectly lovely excuse not to get out of bed for a moment. Satisfied, Zelda buried her head back into her pillow and sighed with contentment.

There was a knock at the door, cutting short her bliss.

_The day must start at some point_, Zelda thought with a mental shrug.

The monarch swung her legs over the edge of the bed, sitting up as she did so, and touched her toes to the carpet. Zelda stretched, yawned, and stood. The sound of knocking echoed once more through her bedchamber.

"One moment, I'm not yet dressed," she called.

An awkward cough burst past the door. Zelda shook her head. Hyrule needed to learn that she was their equal, and had the same tendency to wear nightgowns without corsets when she slept. Oddly enough, she enjoyed breathing while she dreamed. Many other thoughts such as these passed through her mind as she walked to her wardrobe.

…Ah, the selection made her head spin. Pink, white, and gold, pink, white and gold, or pink, white, and gold? Decisions, decisions. Zelda scratched the back of her neck. Royal uniforms were, quite frankly, the bane of variety. She rather liked variety, to be honest.

At least she could choose whether or not to buckle her sword.

Zelda dressed herself—she had long ago learned the arcane secret of putting on a dress on one's own, and, frankly, she preferred wearing her corset in a manner that didn't constrict her breathing—and fastened her rapier to her hip. She placed her crown on her head, slid her feet into a pair of shoes, and opened the door.

"Yes?"

The guard who had knocked stood ramrod straight, a stern expression on his squarish face. "My lady, there is an intruder in the library."

~—~

Shad was fortunate that he was not of the ilk who drooled in their sleep. As it was, he was in a rather large heap of trouble. Not that he realised it very quickly, of course, but the spear-butt that rudely awoke him by striking him in the back was a hint. He jolted back to consciousness with a gasp, his spectacles clattering against the table as they fell from his nose. Shad turned around in his chair and found himself face-to-face with a very angry-looking man in chain mail and armour.

"Oh," Shad said, blinking, "hello. Um…who are you, then?"

"Get up," was the armoured man's brusque reply.

Shad fumbled a bit, got his spectacles back onto his nose, just in time to be prodded in the shoulder with the wretched spear-butt. He wanted to glare at the man wielding the weapon, but the idea of being prodded with the other end did not terribly appeal to him—in fact, it rather terrified him. He tripped out of the chair, knocking it over as he did so, and faced the armoured man with as much dignity as he could with hands shaking as his did.

"Yes?"

The man, presumably a soldier of some sort, walked up to Shad, close enough that the scholar could smell the ale on the other man's breath. The blunt odour of alcohol and halitosis stung Shad's eyes, and he couldn't help but cough.

"Hands behind you," barked the soldier.

With a small jump, Shad complied, still sleepy and now very confused. The soldier stepped behind the scholar and clamped a set of irons around the bespectacled man's wrists. Shad frowned.

"Excuse me," he said, wondering what he would do if his spectacles slipped, "what the dickens are you doing?"

"I might ask you the same thing," said the soldier, "as you're trespassing on the royal library."

"Oh. That. What's the good of having so many wonderful, wonderful books if you don't share them? I mean—"

"Be quiet."

Shad bit his lip, his tongue stubbornly pressing against the roof of his mouth as if it could persuade him to speak if it protested enough. As he didn't wish to antagonise the man with the pointy object, Shad kept silent. The soldier shoved Shad's book violently under his spear-arm, eliciting a wince from the scholar. He clutched Shad's shoulder with one hand and guided him out of the library.

Servants, meandering through the castle as they went about their business, often paused and stared for a moment or two. Some were obviously perplexed as to why there was a man with eccentrically-patterned socks being led, manacled, through the corridors. Others, the older men and women, smirked and shook their heads knowingly, recognising him as the daydreaming son of "that crackpot butler with the cloud creatures". He couldn't remember any of their names, but smiled sheepishly towards them anyway.

"Keep moving," said the soldier, voice clipped.

Shad wondered where the man had imagined that he had stopped moving; they had been walking without any sort of cessation for a rather long period. It made no logical sense for the man to say anything of the sort. Shad dismissed it as being the result of the man's helmet preventing proper blood flow to his brain.

He kept his gaze on his shoes after he and his escort neared a flight of stairs, taking great care not to stumble. Once or twice he stole a look out the windows, staring out into the clouds until the opening passed.

_I could be out there, _he thought wistfully.

~—~

Zelda conversed with one of her advisors while she waited to see the intruder her guard was so livid about. She wished there was a different chamber in which she could conduct matters not quite serious enough for the vast throne room, but no one seemed to agree with her. All matters that concerned her, they said, were important enough to merit being discussed in the enormous chamber. Zelda, on the other hand, disliked the way her voice echoed like a vengeful goddess if she so much as said _hello_ in too loud a voice.

"…what say you, Your Majesty?" asked the advisor.

"I say he is to keep the flock—the other man's expectations of the trade were not communicated properly."

"I agree," the advisor said with a deep, solemn nod.

Zelda wondered sometimes if this advisor in particular gave her so many fictional scenarios for a specific reason, or if he just enjoyed quizzing her for the sake of quizzing her. The smirk that danced on the man's mouth, and the glimmer in his eyes, told her the answer was the latter. She heard the distant clacking of feet against stone, and turned her head towards the sound. One of her guards strode up the stairs, leading before him a young man in diamond-patterned stockings, flood-trousers, and a mildly ill-fitting jacket. The young man, hands were bound behind him, looked incredibly confused. Zelda noted with amusement that his right temple was splotched with ink, and his eyebrows were mismatched.

"Your Majesty," the guard intoned with a bow, briefly releasing his captive to do so. When the guard's back straightened, he pressed his palm into the young man's shoulder, forcing him to his knees.

Zelda raised one eyebrow. "And what is the grave iniquity this fellow has committed, to receive such grim repercussions?" she inquired as the advisor took his leave.

"I believe you were already informed, Your Majesty," the guard replied, "that this man was found in the Royal Library—a trespasser."

Zelda walked towards the young man, whose eyes faced downward, his head bowed—and his sidepiece-lacking spectacles sliding precariously down his thin nose. His wide blue eyes occasionally darted up, as if to see how stern her gaze was. She had to smile at his timidity.

"He also had this," the guard added, tossing a thick book to the floor. The young man winced, inhaling sharply.

Zelda bent her knees and picked up the book, noting with interest the ornamental dagger inside that was, apparently, used for a bookmark. She ran a finger across the surface of the volume. Curious, she opened it. Her eyes were met with nigh-illegible scrawls from two different hands, all on the same subject: sky people. Zelda resisted the urge to read through the entire book, and gently closed it.

"Since when," she said, "has being a scholar in a library been a crime?"

"He was trespassing, and he was inside the castle _with a knife,_ Majesty," said the guard.

"How did you find him?" Zelda asked.

"Pardon?"

"How did you find him?"

"He was snoring—"

"He was sleeping in the library?"

The guard hesitated, looking at Zelda with a furrow in his brow. "Yes."

"And you found this threatening enough to assume he was plotting some sort of somnambulant assassination?"

"He has a knife!"

"Do you know how to use it?" Zelda asked the scholar.

"Milady?" said the guard.

"Not you," Zelda said. She tapped the young man on the shoulder. He looked up, blinking rapidly. "Do you know how to use the knife you wield?"

"Eh?" the scholar said, blinking as if yanked from a particularly fascinating trail of thought.

"The dagger you keep in your book. Do you know how to use it?"

"Not exactly," the young man admitted. "It keeps my place rather nicely, though."

Zelda laughed.

~—~

Shad kept his eyes on his book. When the guard had thrown it to the floor, the scholar's diaphragm had had a spasm. How could a creature with anything vaguely resembling a soul treat a book with such disdain? The princess's behaviour towards the book was inordinately better. She treated the object with a tenderness like that of a mother towards her new-born child.

Something inside Shad glowed a little.

Evidently, whatever it was glowed very loudly, as he didn't hear her question about his knife the first time she asked. When he answered the question, he wasn't entirely sure why she found his reply so humorous. He smiled nervously as she laughed, wondering if he could have his book back, please.

"The notes in here are fascinating," the princess said, once her laughter subsided, running a finger delicately down the surface of one of the pages. She looked at the soldier as if she had only just remembered he had been standing there. "You may depart," she told the armoured man.

The man bowed and spun on his heel, marching down the steps with the sort of vigour that can only come from the militaristic. Shad wasn't sure what to do; his wrists were still manacled and he didn't know if it would break some unwritten rule if he were to stand before the monarch explicitly told him to. He looked up at her, eyebrows raised.

The princess looked back at him. "You may stand if you want, you know," she said gently.

Shad nodded and struggled to his feet, which was infinitely more difficult with his hands behind him than if had they been free. Zelda frowned and stepped behind him. Her fingers brushed his arm, the fabric of her gloves silky to the touch, as her hands made their way towards the lock on his fetters. He winced as a burst of magic flew through her fingers, stinging his wrists as it unlocked the restraints.

"Thank you, my lady," he said, turning to face the princess as the manacles clattered to the floor. He bowed deeply as he massaged his wrists and then pushed his spectacles back where they belonged.

"You are most welcome, Sir…?"

Shad chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm no sir, my lady. I'm just Shad."

"Well, Shad," the princess said, "how did you get into the library in the first place?"

"I snuck."

"You snuck?"

"I snuck," Shad affirmed. "There are lots of lovely little holes through which one can crawl, which I assume were placed where they are by this castle's architect, many of which lead into and out of the library. As far as I can tell, they were designed as an escape route in case of a massive fire. They're very intricately designed; I've noticed several rather fascinating carvings depicting—"

"You snuck through one," Zelda concluded.

Did he possibly detect a hint of admiration in her tone?

"I did," Shad said.

Zelda laughed again, shaking her head in what Shad assumed was disbelief. "How often do you sneak into the library this way, then?"

Here Shad gulped. "Thrice a week, at least."

"My goodness!" Zelda exclaimed, blinking rapidly. "Thrice a week?"

"Usually more," he admitted, shuffling one foot from side to side.

"Surely you jest."

"Why would I jest, my lady?" Shad inquired, pressing his spectacles against his face.

The princess smiled. "One rarely requires a reason to jest," she replied.

"Even around royalty?"

"Point taken."

Shad smiled at her and hooked his thumbs into his belt to prevent his hands from reaching out to take his book. _That would be very rude_, he told himself, _snatching something from the hands of the princess_.

_But it's your book_, a different part of his brain responded, _and you rather need it._

_It would be rude_, the first portion of his brain said, _and that's that._

Zelda regarded Shad thoughtfully, her gloved fingers running up and down the spine of his book as though it were a cat. Shad stood still, trying very hard not to notice the manner in which her half-folded arms accentuated her…female bits. He coughed, more than slightly uncomfortable.

"Do you mind if I borrow this?"

"Pardon?"

"The book," Zelda said, tapping the cover. "I'm intrigued. May I borrow it?"

Shad could have sworn his pulse shuddered. What was she asking? How could he relinquish his book? All of his father's notes and theories? All those calculations he couldn't possibly recreate from memory? He may as well be handing over his soul.

But who was he to refuse a princess?

"…Of course, my lady," he said, swallowing.

She seemed to sense his reluctance. "And until I return it, you're free to enter the library by the main door, so long as it's at a decent hour," Zelda said with a gentle smile. She patted the book's cover. "I'll be very sure to take care of your book."

The glow came back.

~—~

Several days passed, during which the monarch read the scholar's notes in her free time, and the scholar enjoyed an access to the library that didn't involve crawling around on his belly. His least favourite guard never hesitated to remind Shad not to fall asleep, because goddesses knew he didn't need much reason to "throw a bloody repeat-offender trespasser into a cell". Shad took great care to consume large quantities of tea before each day's library visit.

~—~

Zelda sometimes wandered past the library when the doors were open and spotted the young academic sitting at a table, hunched over a thick tome and surrounded by other books, stacked to a height that reached past the top of his head. Twice, when Zelda had completely passed the door, she heard a _thunk_ and a muffled yelp—upon investigation, she saw Shad bending down to pick up a book that had fallen to the floor, rubbing his head with his other hand.

On the tenth day—a peaceful autumn afternoon, with a gentle breeze that carried the scents of the town's bakers creating their edible masterpieces through all the open windows—Zelda walked into the library to see all the evidence of the scholar's presence except the man himself. Stacks of books spread across the table, yes, sheets of parchment liberally scribbled and splattered on, yes, but no scholar. Zelda approached the table and noticed that the last line of Shad's notes seemed to have been written in a rather incredible hurry.

Not wishing to displace anything potentially important, Zelda merely observed the words inscribed on the pages to which the half-dozen books splayed across the wood surface were opened. Every single one seemed to be on the subject of giant cannons, and many detailed how to go about making one. She wondered why on earth the scholar was doing the reading for a project that, according to the majority of his books, required at least a dozen men to complete.

She allowed herself to be absorbed in the words to the point that when a knock sounded on the open library door, she jumped in a rather undignified manner. Composing herself with trained rapidity, Zelda turned to the door and saw Shad standing with an apologetic expression, a steaming mug in one hand, the other holding the door open.

"I'm sorry, my lady, am I disturbing you?" he asked, adjusting his spectacles.

"Not at all," Zelda replied.

"I was doing my work," Shad explained, gesturing to the piles of books, "and one of the kitchen helpers offered me tea." He smiled sheepishly.

"Is it good, then?" Zelda asked, trying not to smile too broadly at his still-mismatched eyebrows.

"It's quite perfect," Shad affirmed. He walked over to the table and stood over it awkwardly, unsure whether or not to take his seat. "I didn't expect you—or anyone, really—to come in while I was gone." He set the mug next to one of the smaller towers of books. "…You can have the tea, if you like, my lady. I don't think it right for a man to—"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Zelda interrupted quietly, a smile tugging at her mouth.

"Pardon?"

"I've already taken your book, how could I take your tea? It would be comparable to taking a man's coin-purse and then returning to liberate him of his shoes."

Shad grinned. "You are very kind, my lady."

"Don't mention it," Zelda replied.

Shad picked up the mug and lifted it to his lips. "I don't mean to be rude," he said after he swallowed, "but, by any chance, are you finished—speaking of which—with my book?"

"Not quite."

The scholar's face fell and his shoulders slumped, his eyes downcast towards his mug. Zelda reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. He looked sidelong at her hand for a moment, either confused by the gesture or studying her digits.

"I'm almost done, though," she assured. "And I know where to find you once I've finished it."

Shad looked up at her and smiled. "You are very kind indeed," he said again. He glanced at her hand again, placed as it was on the corner of his shoulder. Placing his mug once more onto the table, Shad took her hand in both of his and pressed it to his lips. "Thank you, my lady."

"You're very welcome. And I rather wish you wouldn't call me that."

"Call you what, my lady?"

"Exactly. If you're just Shad, I am just Zelda."

Shad blinked, hands still wrapped around Zelda's fingers. "That would be a breach of propriety, my lady!" he said, apparently horrified at the concept.

"Says the man who sneaks into libraries?"

The scholar coughed. "That was for the sake of research."

"Consider it a royal order, then."

"I'll try, my—er—Zelda."

"Well done," Zelda laughed. "Now, will you accept my suggestion that we take to that couch there, or will I have to make that a royal decree as well?"

Shad's eyes twinkled. "I have no objection whatsoever."

~—~

Shad hadn't realised he had forgotten to release the princess's hand until she began to walk over to the couch. He hurriedly retracted his hands and, given his lack of a book to hold onto, folded his arms behind him. Shad retrieved his tea and followed her at a respectful distance. Zelda seated herself, smoothing the skirt of her dress, and looked up at him.

"Aren't you going to sit?" she asked.

Shad nodded and hurriedly sat down, unsure of what the proper distance between them was. A Telma and a half could have fit between the two, with room enough to stretch. Zelda looked over at him, obviously trying very hard not to laugh.

"I won't bite you, Shad," Zelda promised.

"Isn't one breach of propriety enough for an afternoon?" Shad asked.

The laugh escaped. She really did have a nice laugh. "I think you'll survive."

Shad relented and scooted awkwardly towards the princess until she was an arm's length away. "Better?" he asked.

"Much," Zelda replied. She looked over at the books he had spread across the table. "So, cannons?"

"Cannons. You see, as I'm sure you gathered from the book, I've been spending rather a long time searching for the City in the sky and the people who populate it, and for a method of getting there. Well, not long ago—not long before your reinstatement, actually—Link…you know Link, yes? I suppose that doesn't particularly matter. Anyway, he managed to find a device, a Sky Cannon, powerful enough to shoot a grown man into the heavens. He…I honestly have no idea what he was trying to communicate with—" Shad attempted to recreate the hand motion the hero had made. "—that. I assumed he wanted me to leave. Which I did. When I came back, the cannon had completely vanished!" Shad struggled to keep his voice from cracking as he recounted how his life's work had become redundant in less than a minute.

"You never made it to the City," Zelda said.

Shad shook his head. "I've been spending rather a lot of time recently trying to figure out if I can recreate a cannon similar to the one that I… ah… lost." Zelda put a hand on his knee. He turned his face towards her, grimacing. "I apologise," he said. "I really shouldn't trouble you with tales of my own blunders, should I?"

"Think nothing of it," Zelda replied. "It's much better than how most people act around me, all stern and silent."

Shad smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. "If there is one thing I am _not_, it's silent," he chuckled.

~—~

Many afternoons passed thus until the advent of winter, with Zelda acquiring free time after adjourning the day's council and encountering the scholar in the library. They conversed for hours, Shad about his sky people or whatever subject happened to intrigue him at the time, Zelda about matters of state. Each commented on the other's topic with as much knowledge as they had, which was, unsurprisingly, considerable for both parties.

Shad developed a habit for bringing two cups of tea into the library, and eventually got used to the idea of sitting closer than a metre away from the monarch.

He still slipped up on the "my lady" issue, however.

~—~

The sun had long ago descended beneath the crests of Hyrule's rolling hills, and a merry fire crackled in the library's hearth, far from the flammable books but comfortably close to the couch where Zelda and Shad always sat. A gentle dusting of snow fell from the sky, and Shad was curled into the corner cushions of the couch, cradling a book. Two mugs of tea, both steaming, one half-emptied, sat on an end table beside him, and next to the mugs were three candles.

Shad looked up towards the library door, where Zelda stood, wrapped in a thick robe. She smiled warmly and lifted her hand from underneath the folds of the robe. In her raised hand was his book.

"Quite the read," Zelda said as she walked to the couch. She sat down next to him and laid the book in his lap. "I do look forward to the sequel," she added, her smile turning to a grin.

Shad chuckled, closing the book he had been reading, and gave Zelda the full mug of tea. She took it with a deep nod of thanks, and sipped. He couldn't help but notice the way that the firelight glinted against her skin just so, or that particular curve of her mouth as the tea made its way down her throat. Dear goddesses, she was beautiful.

"How goes the research?" Zelda inquired.

"Well enough," Shad replied, "although I believe I'm starting to exhaust this library's resources." He grinned.

"That didn't take you very long."

"Are you surprised?"

"Not particularly," Zelda laughed.

Zelda lowered her mug and leaned into Shad's shoulder for warmth. He blinked and pressed his lips together. Hesitantly, he shifted his sitting position so his arm was around her, her head against his chest, his hand on her arm. Her bright, blue eyes looked up at him, into him, gleaming in the firelight. Shad felt a sensation in his stomach that was not at all unpleasant.

"Calling me by my name is a breach of protocol but this isn't?" the princess said playfully.

"Would it fix anything if I reverted to calling you 'my lady'?" Shad asked, grinning.

She shook her head vehemently. "Revert to that and I may have to resort to drastic measures."

"Terrifying."

"You appear to forget that I'm a monarch."

"…Point taken, and I formally revoke all sarcasm," Shad shuddered.

Zelda's laugh rang in Shad's ears. "Fret not, O Scholarly One. I harbour no malice."

Shad brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "Thank goodness for that," he said.

Zelda burrowed her head deeper into his chest, and Shad began to doubt that warmth was the major portion of her reasoning. He rested his chin on the top of her head and mused on the idea for a rather long amount of time, wishing he could see into the princess's mind.

"Speak your mind," she murmured, voice muffled by his shirt.

"Well, I was thinking about the inherent benefits of this particular position," he lied, "namely the shared warmth and—"

"What?" Zelda said, looking up at him with a somewhat dazed frown.

"It is cold out, isn't it?" Shad asked.

"Yes," Zelda replied, mirth in her voice.

"This sort of closeness is mutually beneficial," he said, feeling heat rush to his face as Zelda began to laugh again.

"Highly so," Zelda agreed. She took another sip of tea. "What's this book about?" she asked, pointing to the volume he had been reading before she came in.

"Theories on the physiological structure of the Oocca," he answered eagerly. "Being, as they are, creatures of the clouds, very few Hylians have had the privilege of seeing one, so there is a distressingly small number of books detailing their appearance and anatomy. Most speculate that they are primarily avian, given their place of residence…"

~—~

Zelda absorbed almost every word that spilled from the rambling scholar's mouth up to a point. She had a desperate need to interrupt him after he had gone on for ten minutes straight—did the man ever inhale?—so as to tell him why she had come in. He didn't look like he was going to stop talking any time soon.

"…and lightweight skeletons—"

"Shad?" she began, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear.

"—that allow for…hm?" Shad blinked rapidly, head tilted ever so slightly to the side. "Yes?"

Zelda smiled and silenced him in the only way she knew would be perfectly effective. She closed her eyes pressed her mouth to his. After his initial yelp, muffled by her own lips, Shad placed his hand to the back of her head and kissed her back, his slender hands tracing the contours of her back gently, almost reverently.

"You know," he murmured into her mouth, "I've been keeping a running list of your admirable traits, my lady. I might have to add 'a striking talent for the cessation of the male pulse'."

"You can stop," Zelda said, "calling me 'my lady'."

"Yes, Zelda," Shad whispered, kissing her again.

* * *

A/N: I don't own the Legend of Zelda, and the way I fell in love with this pairing was a simple icon on FanPop. It was Shad holding Zelda, and all it said was "Knowledge & Wisdom". *thunk*


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